Like many in lockdown, Mary found that she barely remembered her working days once she closed down her laptop at five. It was as if the day hadn’t really happened, had been a dream. She got up from her seat in the room they’d agreed was her office, still feeling that empty dullness of the workday.
She had no motivation and precious little interest to do anything as she stepped into the living room, where Anton had left one of his little models on the coffee table again. He spent hours painting these and his collection had all kinds of different things.
Mary stared at the three-inch-high model of a harem girl, caught languorously mid-dance, in baggy pink pants and almost no bra.
She blinked and licked her lips. Remembered how much she loved to play act his harem girl.
Anton was out on the verandah when she emerged, in loose pink sweatpants and a near-transparent teddy, her loudest jewellery jingling as it clashed against itself, a tray in her hand with her favourite toy and his favourite drink.
Her happiness, her goals, her hobbies, she forgot until she saw them again. It helped her get through each day not to be distracted.